AN: Glad everybody's as creeped out by this person as I am. It gets creepier. Also, I saw some names I didn't recognize among reviewers - I'm excited to see this story is reaching people who don't normally read my stories!

WARNING: Stalking

Chapter 2

Two weeks later

Ziva carried the tray of coffee and her own tea like a peace offering, although she knew it would not make a difference to Gibbs. Since she had joined the team, they had closed almost all of their cases. This was the first time she had truly seen what Gibbs was like when they could not solve a crime, and she had heard Tony muttering about Moby Dick a few times. She had checked the book out of the library last week to read, but they had been so busy, she had not yet had time to open it.

Vance had already given them some smaller cases to work, and she knew they would not be able to avoid the larger ones for longer, would not be able to give Gunnery Sgt. Ianuskewicz their full attention for much longer. Gibbs would be a lion, no, a bear today. She had asked the barista at the coffee shop by the Yard to add three extra shots to Gibbs' black coffee for just that reason.

"Rough case?" The barista had looked over as he prepared the espresso by memory. "At the rate Abby's going through our Caf-Pow supply, we're going to have to double the weekly order."

"Some days, they all are rough." Ziva took the tray of drinks as he finished pouring the shots into the large black coffee. "I expect you will see one of us back before too long today."

But the elevator doors opened on the squad room floor, the men were there waiting for her.

"We have a case?" She stepped back and allowed them to pile in around her.

"Dead naval lieutenant at the Pentagon. A cryptographer." Gibbs stood next to her and took the coffee from the tray. Ziva passed it up to Tony and McGee and let them bicker over the latte and the hazelnut cafe au lait.

"His CO called him in because he was UA, and the guy he shares a head with on Anacostia housing found him dead in bed." Tony ran his tongue around his lips to remove the foam.

"Suicide? Heart problems?" Ziva sipped her tea.

McGee shook his head and consulted his phone. "He was only 23 and ran on MIT's track and cross country teams. Heart problems are unlikely." He winced from the headslap. "Right, Boss. That's for Ducky to say."

~NCIS~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~

As Tony snapped photos of the crime scene, he studied the dead lieutenant's quarters. Once he was done, he stepped aside for Ducky and Palmer.

"TOD, Duck?" Gibbs didn't even look up from where he was dusting the nightstand for prints.

"About midnight, but I rather suspect this was slow." The medical examiner looked inside the corpse's mouth. "I'll have Abby run a tox screen, but I suspect our young lieutenant died from an overdose of barbituates."

"Suicide?" Tony lowered the camera. "Shouldn't we have found a note?"

"That is more common," Ducky said. "But this method is more often employed by women, so our young lieutenant already was taking a path that is not typical."

"Maybe the idea of shooting himself made him queasy." Tony looked over at McGee, who was tapping away at the lieutenant's laptop. "Are all MIT grads as green as you, McQueasy?"

But McGee was in his zone and didn't even respond. Tony left him be and documented Ducky's investigation of the body. He was just wrapping up when Ziva walked back in the room.

"Lieutenant Killian was a quiet man who kept to himself, very focused on his work," she reported. "Even among the others in his unit who lived on base, he was considered to be a genius and was working on some special classified project."

Gibbs sat back on his heels and looked around the room. "DiNozzo, McGee, take the car, go to the Pentagon. Talk to his CO, find out what's going on."

Tony nodded. "You mean McGee translates and I watch for anybody who looks jumpy, right boss?"

Gibbs just raised an eyebrow, then jerked his head toward McGee.

Tony called the younger agent, then called him again.

"McGee." Gibbs snapped.

"On it, Boss." McGee straightened up, and Tony couldn't help snickering, even though he knew he'd get a headslap later for that.

"Come on, McBabble. We're headed to the Pentagon so you can tell me what the hell this guy was working on." Tony handed the camera to Ziva and headed out, McGee on his heels.

~NCIS~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~

McGee pushed aside flashbacks to his first visit to the crypto unit all afternoon as he concentrated on hacking into the Pentagon's files and ensuring nothing had been compromised. Ducky came to the squad room himself to deliver the suicide verdict, and he stopped to listen as the ME tried to convince Gibbs.

"Jethro, are you questioning my judgment?" Ducky was too short to loom over even Ziva, much less Gibbs, but he gave that impression. "The glass bottle on his desk contained traces of the same barbituates in his system, a quantity large enough to fell a water buffalo. Anthony determined that the brand of juice drink has a tamper-evident cap, as all pre-bottled beverages do in this country, and the lid in the trash can showed no puncture marks that would indicate somebody had altered it. Unless Timothy has turned up evidence that our young lieutenant was sharing classified data or was being pressured to do so, I have no grounds for ruling it anything but a suicide."

"Fingerprints on the bottle?"

Ziva spoke up. "Gibbs, Abby said there were several sets, none on record. She said they most likely are from people who had handled it at whatever store he purchased it."

Gibbs hurled his coffee cup into the trash can. "Chatter?"

Ziva shook her head. "My sources have not heard any increase in discussion that might indicate the lieutenant was engaged in disclosing secrets."

"McGee?"

"Nothing, Boss. His files are squeaky clean, and so are the rest of the the unit's."

Gibbs glared. "Pack it in. Report by zero-seven tomorrow."

McGee didn't wait for him to change his mind, just grabbed his gear and headed out. But once in his car, windows rolled down, he hesitated. He didn't really want to go home, for some reason he couldn't quite name. This wasn't a night to freewrite on his typewriter. He needed the notepad and pen approach he used when a plot problem was bothering him. Usually that meant the coffee shop, but it was Thursday and his usual spot always had live music and entirely too many people.

He felt a prickle on the back of his neck, but managed not to squirm. Instead, he looked sideways, careful not to move his head. Then the other side. Nothing. He pretended to be reaching into the back seat and used that as an excuse to survey the lot. Behind him, Tony put his car in gear and pulled out, waving as he drove by. McGee waved back, and then dropped his head back against the headrest. This case was making him jumpy. He hesitated, then grabbed his notebook and got out of his car. He'd just head to the coffee shop on base, do his writing there. They were open pretty much all night because the Navy Yard was a 24-hour operation, but it was usually dead in the evenings.

Still, as he walked over, he couldn't shake the unease skittering along his spine.

~NCIS~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~

Gibbs stood at the window in the squad room late that evening. Nothing. His team had nothing. Ducky hadn't been able to find any evidence that it wasn't suicide, even though Gibbs' gut was churning. Killian's project at the Pentagon hadn't been compromised, and Tony swore that nobody at the Pentagon was giving off any whiff of being involved in this. At 1900, he'd finally let the team go, unable to justify keeping them late for an apparent suicide. Not after all the long days they had pulled on the Ianuskewicz case. But it still didn't sit right. This was one of those cases he'd think about at night while he worked in the basement, his mind turning it over as he sanded away. But not tonight. Tonight, he was going to stay here, see if he could figure out what he was missing.

~NCIS~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~ NCIS ~

Agent McGee doesn't normally enter his fictional world until he is well away from the Navy Yard. He has a coffee shop in his neighborhood, not the one his stalker used. His other stalker. The one who wasn't serious. The man was an amateur, really. If I had chosen his method, I wouldn't have killed the small characters in the book. I would have gone after Agent Tommy and Officer Lisa, Amy and Pimmy Jalmer. Agent McGregor and the great LJ Tibbs himself. But Agent McGee and his team didn't yet know of my existence then. Already, they were two steps behind. I really didn't think it would take them this long. It's a disappointment in some ways. Nine so far, and none of them even know I exist. Perhaps I overestimated them. I was too subtle. No matter. My next move will catch the attention of at least one of them. And the one after that, I have something special planned. It will take some time to prepare, though. Each move in this match raises the stakes. And when the impervious Leroy Jethro Gibbs realizes how far he let this go, even he will crack. That's when I can unveil the full extent of my plan. Before this is done, he will be broken beyond repair. And I will be a legend.